Seeing and Believing
by Morning Chrysanthemum
Summary: And sometimes, the two can go hand in hand. But not in the ways you'd think. "What do my eyes look like?" "They look like..." Various one-shots. Part five-RusAme
1. Of Flowers and Follies

Arthur nervously stepped along the path leading to the Japanese-style house ahead of him, trying not to trip on the rocks and dirt. He knew Kiku would be home, for it was _that _day.

He'd been here not too long ago, when they…er, "celebrated" the alliance they made over a century ago. Arthur tried not to think of the time he terminated it, remorse starting to flood his heart.

Despite that, what's done is done, and we can't undo it.

He took a deep breath, closing his emerald eyes and bowing his head low, his golden hair shining in the sun. He continued on. Once he got to the door, it suddenly slid open, making him jump and almost drop the bouquet of crimson chrysanthemums and roses he was carrying. He gulped. Was he really that much of a sentimental old man, like Alfred always joked? But he had no time to think as Kiku's head peeked out, brown eyes curious and penetrating. His cheeks turned pink at the sight of Arthur.

"Arthur-san…ano—"

"Kiku!" Arthur blurted out. He held the bouquet up high. "I, uh, wanted to, er, say…" He took another deep breath, bringing his head up."Um…Happy Valentine's Day, love."

The other man turned as red as the flowers he was given. Arthur had never quite gotten over how absolutely adorable it made him look. He himself blushed scarlet.

"D-don't get me wrong, though! I-I just thought I'd get you these to make you house look prettier…not that it isn't already pretty, but you get what I—" This time he was the one cut off. By Kiku's lips. Once the Japanese pulled away, Arthur saw him give a small, shy smile.

"Regardless of the reason, I'm happy you chose to do so. Shall we go in?"

"O-oh! I…suppose." The Englishman, after removing his shoes, entered Kiku's home with all the grace, balance, and mobility of a short-circuiting robot with Alfred's disgusting soda spilled all over it.

He sat down on a pillow in the seiza position that seemed to love making his legs go numb, watching the Japanese nervously. He'd thought about what he was going to say, but for the love f all things magical, it just sounded so damn _corny._

"_Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?"_ Who said that nowadays? Maybe Alfred was right; he really was too old for this.

Arthur tried to sneak a glance at Kiku, only to get lost in his eyes for the octillionth time. Those orbs, they were like chocolate, like earth, like the bark on trees, like—

"Tea."

"Eh?"

"Your eyes…remind me of my tea." Arthur stated it bluntly, not registering the awkwardness of his statement…until…"Wait! I didn't mean it like that! I meant—" Even if it was true, it wasn't like a true romantic to say that!

He trailed off as Kiku's surprised look became a smile. The smaller male laughed as well, taking Arthur's hand with his own.

"I could say the same for you, Arthur-san. Additionally, you can be somewhat bitter at times, but likable nonetheless."

There was a pause as Arthur tried to digest this. Once he did, he blushed and squawked, "What the bloody hell's that supposed to mean?"

Kiku's smile widened. "It is what it is, Arthur-san. Aishiteru."

Arthur, even with his cheeks ruby-red, grinned a bit, his confident side redeeming itself and making an appearance. He leaned over and kissed him right on the lips, smirk getting bigger as Kiku reddened.

""I could say the same, love."

But still, as tsundere as he was, he said, "D-don't get the wrong idea. This is just for my pride as a gentleman and an expert poet! So, just…"

Kiku giggled again. "Yes, I know, Arthur-san." He beamed at him yet again.

And even if he knew his lover was trying to hide it, he could tell Arthur was smiling as well.

* * *

**...I've had this idea rolling around in my head for about a month or two. Thus this was born. The idea came from the movie _Raja Hindustani, _from this scene:  
Guy: But you're the most beautiful of all, Madam!  
Girl: Eh? How?  
Guy: Um...your eyes. -stares into them-  
Girl: What about them?  
Guy: Your eyes...  
Girl: Tell me, please.  
Guy: Your eyes...look like the headlights of a taxi. [Cause he's a taxi driver XD]  
And so that's how it'll be. Next up is either USUK or Ameripan. But I bet a lot of people are going to want me to do USUK...**

**Oh yes! Support the people who've lost their lives in the earthquake/tsunami! Pray! Believe in _something!_ This chappie shall be dedicated to them!  
**


	2. Traditional Triumph

**Finally got it up! Dedicated to **_**Neko Ninja Hezza, **_**who wanted Ameripan. I do take requests, mind you! They're just…gonna be slow. –shot-**

**But…enjoy please? –puppy/rabbit eyes- Everyone who reviewed/favorited/alerted/what-have-you: You guys are awesome! The feedback really inspired me. –sniff- I probably wouldn't have this up if it wasn't for you guys…**

* * *

Japan had always been the type of nation to hold onto tradition to the best of his ability…with some exceptions, of course. (Industrializing and Westernizing _were_ crucial at the time.)

America was his polar opposite, combining what he learned from England and Japan (though Kiku still winced when reminded of the concoction Alfred called sushi-it was the closest he got to Arthur's cooking, and that was saying something), as well as the other countries to create a medley of culture that still held a part of _him._

Depending on the way you looked at it, this could be deemed either good or bad. Japan had usually saw it as a good thing, admiring the way America proudly displayed how he lived and not giving a damn what others thought, but as with everything in the world, there were some negative aspects of it.

Like now, for example.

He wasn't like France, the so-called "country of love," (though he failed to understand how groping or trying to verbally seduce anything in sight were indications of love), but he somehow got the feeling that coming—correction: being dragged-to McDonald's, on _Valentine's Day no less, _wasn't really what the average person would call romantic.

He certainly wouldn't. The homemade chocolates idly sitting in his pocket also seemed to say that.

"Alfred-san, you seem to be very excited today," the rather put off Japanese man murmured, staring at the inordinate—or insane would also be fitting—amount of burgers piled on said American's plate. He averted his eyes from the sight of America quickly shoveling them in his mouth, occasionally pausing to take a swig from his shake.

"Mmmhmm, Of course—" really, he was like a turkey with all that gobbling,"—Kiku! You know how I-" here he took a long, loud slurp "—love hamburgers." Kiku merely smiled politely at the poor table manners.

Despite being with Alfred for a while, he had never quite accustomed to it. Nor was he really used to how very big the fries were here. America must have felt the same way in Japan (as shown from his panic attack), but still…

Finally, America stopped his quest to devour the most heart-attacks-on-buns than he ever did. There was still one left on the plate. Japan just resumed his staring contest with the enormous, yellow, greasy stalks, trying to avoid the intense yet nervous look Alfred gave him.

"Kiku…I s'pose you know…what day it is, right?" Oh, great, now he was talking like Greece now. _Be a hero and face up to it, Jones! _He scolded himself.

The smaller man nodded, his hand subconsciously delving through his pocket. He nervously fingered the chocolate, half wondering how America had suddenly got out of his usual "I can't read the atmosphere at all, so I'm just going to laugh, eat, and talk about how great a hero I am!" It was part of the reason that so many other nations had such vendettas against him. Japan was no exception, but time did heal wounds in his case, in both his mind and heart.

"Well…d-did you wanna go, uh….watch the sunset with me later?" America tugged at his own collar, as if the action would give the air he very much needed, what with all his freaking out. (A little kicked-puppy expression wouldn't hurt either…)Sure, Japan was the Land of the Rising Sun, but he was sure to appreciate something as ascetic as the earth seeming to drag down the sun and dimming most things in sight….maybe?

Kiku's cheeks heated up a bit. He shyly gazed down, his fingers fidgeting even more. "H-hai… and you should take these," he said, pulling the chocolates out, "if it's not a burden to you…"

"Awesome!" He eagerly grabbed them. "It isn't, 'cause I'm the hero! And also…I noticed something about your eyes today!" he added brightly. The childish excitement brought a soft smile to Japan's face, still flushed, now that Alfred had taken responsibility for today.

"Yes?"

"Your eyes…" He looked thoughtful for a moment, glancing at his plate and back, then grinned again. "They're all brown and cool, like… the meat patty on a burger!"

_Eh?_

That was all that crossed Japan's mind at the moment, though his composure remained intact. But only barely.

"Oh, and they remind me of chocolate, too!" Alfred's smile was even broader, the naivete quickly returning. The couple engaged in a small staring contest. Kiku finally opened his mouth after what could have passed for a millennium…

…and started laughing. That in itself was enough to jar America's vision., making his face turn a bit red.

"H-hey! Don't laugh at the hero! I mean, at least I wasn't all corny like that old man Arthur!"

"I-I suppose so. Hahaha…" Kiku's usual "smile-smile" expression would not suffice in order to express how humorous he really found this. Alfred scratched the back of his head sheepishly.

"S-so, could you tell me what my eyes are like to you, Kiku?" Alfred put on the puppy-dog expression again, knowing that the Japanese man had always had a soft spot for cute things….as well as some strange kinks, but now was not a good time to go into detail about that, especially after he'd just eaten.

Kiku pretended to think about it, assuming a thoughtful expression as his pretense. He smiled yet again. "I'll tell you when we watch the sunset, ne?" For those sapphire orbs, to him, were reminiscent of the sky and…_of the ocean you found me on._

…

Later, as they were both curled up in America's living room at nightfall, taking a catnap after watching a horror movie (predictably, Alfred screamed once he saw a ghost and clung to Kiku) before their next great "adventure," Japan pondered to himself how well that went. America's expression of surprise and joy really was _kawaii_, he mused, absent-mindedly stroking the blond locks of the man whose head lay in his lap.

The two had planned to spend Valentine's Day next year viewing the sunset again. Japan was already the traditional type, but as he looked at the man peacefully in slumber on his thighs, he knew he'd honor that tradition even if he wasn't.

* * *

**I'm sure most of you know me to be an AsaKiku fangirl (which I so totally am—I probably love those two too much for my own good), but my soft spot for Ameripan is almost as huge. I really do love it. (The love triangle with these three is so sad, though! 'Comfort Words' made me cry every freaking time I read it!)  
I just realized…as much as I love Ameripan, this is actually my first time writing it. –le gasp!- That's actually a bit saddening…  
Ah, and I'm definitely doing USUK next! Then comes GerIta, then…I'll need to think about it unless you guys give me ideas.**


	3. Hamburger Hero

"Iggy! Did ya miss me?"

The cry, much to Arthur's chagrin, could be heard by anyone within a three-mile radius. He barely had enough time to shoot glares at smirking bystanders before he was tackled by an over-exuberant American in a suit. He relaxed for a moment before quickly shoving him off.

"If you keep doing that every time you see me, then I won't miss you as much," he huffed, dusting himself off and trying to regain some dignity. "And where the hell did 'Iggy' come from? Unlike 'Artie,' it has nothing to do with me."

"Ah, but that's where you're wrong! See, I got Kiku to tell me your name in his language. You know, _Igirisu_? So my heroic genius came up with Iggy!" He then switched to a moderately accurate British accent. "Elementary, my dear Arthur. Surely even you could not deduce that?"

The real Briton chuckled, whacking the other at the same time. "Of course I could, you gormless git. Come on, it's time your president saw my prime minister. You even came earlier than planned. Everything's all right, yes? No volcanic ash hit you?*"

"Even if it did, a hero wouldn't back down form something like that!"

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Of course, Alfred."

…

Everyone has their awkward moments. It could be when your significant other finally meets your parents. It could be when a what-used-to-be animated conversation falls into silence. And it can be when parents meet other adults.

For Arthur and Alfred—most Arthur, actually-it was when their superiors discussed possible economic solutions while playing table tennis.

"Why don't we cut the deficit by 4 trillion dollars over the next ten years?" asked President Obama as he slammed the paddle into the ball. He looked to the side, and paused, transfixed by the sight of Prime Minister David Cameron calmly waiting for the ball.

"…Quite good," replied Cameron, making Arthur snicker, even though he knew he actually meant it.** "Our plan is somewhat similar. Why don't we cut it from 11.1% of gross domestic product in 2009 to 2010 to 1.5% of GDP in 2015 to 2016?"

…then it continued while they flipped (_Oh, God, just send some demons-hell, even Russia-to kill me now_) hamburgers.

Alfred on the other hand, was enjoying this thoroughly. His signature shit-eating grin was spread across his face while he laughed his famous laugh, his sapphire eyes twinkling.

Arthur scoffed. "Of course _you_ would like this kind of thing."

"Well, what can I say? They never get old. Like you."

Blushing, the Englishman sputtered, "How irrelevant is that?"

"Oh, probably just as irrelevant as me telling you that your eyes keep reminding me of something I can't place right now." Now Alfred's expression was thoughtful, as rare as the sight was.

"Meaning?"

"Oh, give me a minute, geez. You sure can act like an old man when you want to."

"Shut up, twat."

"Yea, yea, yea…oh, I've got it now!" All traces of mischievousness had been erased. The American merely chirped, "Your eyes…"

"Spit it out," Arthur said, his flush deepening.

"Your eyes…"

"Don't test me, Jones!"

"All right, all right! Your eyes…are like the lettuce in a hamburger." If Alfred meant that comment to contain malice, he didn't show it.

Pause. Yet another awkward moment in Arthur's lifetime. Would they ever stop coming?

He stormed away, in half pseudo—or tsundere- anger, half mortification. "Alfred, you are such an idiot sometimes! You always have to cock things up, don't you?"

"Iggy! Wait!" The American caught up surprisingly fast.

"What the bloody hell was that all about? It's not like I was expecting to get all Shakespeare with me-like you could ever match up with that-but still, really?"

"Hey, I have some great poets and you know it! What about Emerson and Frost? And besides, it was all that crossed my mind at the moment," he added sheepishly, scratching the back of his head.

Arthur let out a breath he knew full well he'd been holding. "Well, I wouldn't expect much from an arsehole like you, anyway…"

"Hey! That hurt here!" exclaimed the other, gesturing toward his heart. "Fine. You want me to say something else?"

The shorter man smirked. "I'd like to see you try to say something eloquent."

Predictably, Alfred rose up to the challenge. He took a deep breath. "_When the United States and Britain stand together, our people and people around the world can become more secure and more prosperous._" Alfred gave a smug smile, pausing for dramatic effect.

Arthur's jaw would have been flapping in the air had it not been for his gentlemanly self-control.

"_And that is the key to our relationship. Yes, it is founded on a deep emotional connection, by sentiment and ties of people and culture. But the reason it thrives, the reason why this is such a natural partnership, is because it advances our common interests and shared values. It is a perfect alignment of what we both need and what we both believe. And the reason it remains strong is because it delivers time and again. Ours is not just a special relationship, it is an essential relationship – for us and for the world_." He stopped, grinning and knowing he had won. "In your face, Artie!"

"D-did you come up with that on your own?" At this, Alfred looked down in shame.

Heroes couldn't lie. "Uhhhh…not really. See, while our bosses were playing ping pong, I saw this article that I guess they both wrote. It's true, and it kinda struck me, y'know?" He stared back at Arthur with the expression of a kicked puppy.

Had he not began chortling, Arthur's heart would have melted and he'd have to keep his barrier of tsundere-ness up. "Oh, God, you are such a prat, aren't you?" He put his hand on the other blonde's broad shoulders for support.

Alfred blushed. "Yea, but I'm _your _prat, aren't I?"

Arthur looked up, smiling his rare, sincere smile. "Yes…I suppose you are," he said as he tugged on Alfred's tie and leaned in for a kiss.

….

**Oh Dieu, why did this fail so much. And it's so LATE.  
*See, President Obama did visit England. (Pfft, the pictures on Facebook are truly hilarious, especially the edited ones. XD) According to this article, our president flew to there from Ireland earlier than originally planned so they wouldn't be trapped by volcanic ash.  
**And according to this picture that "translates" what the British say and mean to what others interpret it as, what Cameron says here is supposed to mean, "A bit disappointing." But the article says, that on this issue, that they were finally seeing eye to eye.  
Oh, and what Alfred says is part of a joint article the two wrote.  
USUK…I'm more neutral to it, so I haven't been writing it much. I'm just that biased. –shot- (I actually prefer UKUS. –shot some more- But that's probably because I'm developing a fetish for seme!Arthur. He doesn't even have to be pirae/policeman/angel/what-have-you. He could be the snarky gentleman we love and I'd still find it hot.)**

**GerIta is up next~ Look forward to it! (or not…)**


	4. Wonderful Wonderful Wurst

Germanic despair is not something to be trifled with.

Germany himself knew all too well.

And yet he had no idea why he was here at Italy's house, holding a bouquet of roses, about to knock.

"I could have just stayed at home," he muttered, closing his light blue eyes in aggravation. "He would have turned up in my bed anyway…" The implications of that statement hit him. "Grah!" He soon began pouting German curses that made passerby stare at him with either pity, curiosity, or a "May I escort you to an asylum?" look.

Suddenly the door opened and he quickly fumbled for his composure.

"Ah, It…" he faltered when he saw who it was.

"What the hell do you want, potato bastard?"

Now he _really _wanted to go home. Just relax there with some beer and wurst and not think of Italians. But he steeled himself.

"Is North Italy present?" _Remember: formality, formality, formality._

"Not right now. Knowing him, he's probably flirting with some girls or on his merry way to your place," Romano grumbled, leaning on the door's frame.

He seemed to notice Germany's crestfallen expression and the fact that the hand holding the bouquet was lowered. Folding his arms huffily, he continued. "Listen, sausage monkey: we all know how idiotic my brother is. So if you're only playing around with him or if you make him cry-when actually isn't that hard to do now that I think about it- then I'll raise a hundred percent shit storm that'll come right at ya. Got that?"

Germany raised an eyebrow at the insult, but said nothing until he finished. "Understood. You underestimate me, though."

"Prove it when you make him happy then."

In a very Japan-like manner, he replied, "I will take the appropriate action."

…

_Hmm. Speaking of Japan, I could go ask him for advice. He's had his fair share of encounters with Italy…_

As he walked, he remembered Italy and Japan's first meeting and smiled. A small smile, but a smile nonetheless. It was a rather nice moment now that he thought about it. One of those few moments of unity and friendship when nothing else seemed right anymore.

His mouth then twitched downwards at the thought of Italy. "Who knew an idiot like that would have so much impact on me to the point that I can't even look at a noodle without thinking of him?"

Thinking of his goofy smile, his naive outlook, his need to be protected...his obliviousness...

He sighed, the roses acting as a cushion for his head. He returned to the hotel where the other nations were staying since the world summit was held in Italy for once. Heaven on Earth, it was called. _Though the meetings have still been hell, even after all these years._

Making his way through the maze of hallways, he finally reached his destination: Japan's room. The fact was obvious due to the fact that his flag was emblazoned on the He hesitated for a moment, wondering if it was really worth it to confess to Italy. His heart asked him if he was deranged for even thinking of that question, and he swallowed his pride, rapping on the door.

There was a long pause, and Germany was contemplating on whether he should leave now or look like he was getting rejected by the door instead of Italy, but then the door was swung open by-

"England?"

"Who wants to know?" he asked gruffly, his messy clothes and hair not deterring his tone.

"Uh..."

"_Goshujin-sama*?_" came a soft voice. Germany's eyes widened in surprise as Japan came in view.

"J-Japan?"

"Ah...Doitsu-san? Y-your visit is quite sudden," he said, looking just as surprised and a bit sheepish, as opposed to his usual stoic expression.

"Right. I'm sorry. But can tell you tell me why in the world you're wearing a...a maid outfit?"

Japan only looked down and twiddled his thumbs. The costume—which consisted of a white cap, a mid-thigh length black dress, matching stockings that reached up to his knee, and buckled shoes, also matching-made the action somewhat adorable, though Germany felt Italy could pull 'adorable' off even better...especially in that outfit...

"I-it was just a change of pace, Doitsu-san. A-anyway, would you like to come in?"

A pause. "Sure, why not?"

He followed the two to the living room. Planting himself on the sofa, he gazed at them. At first, they sat next to each other, but a pointed look from England made Japan seat himself on his lap. A sort of envy burned inside Germany at how well they knew each other and how others didn't.

"So, what is your purpose for visiting, Doitsu-san?"

"Uh...ahem! I, er, wanted to know your opinion on something."

The resulting pause told him to continue.

"I-it's about Italy."

Japan's usually monochromatic eyes lit up. "You have finally realized your feelings for him?"

Rather than trying to deny it, the German man merely said, "...How did you know?"

His friend gave a small, quirky smile. "Nice to meet you, I am Japan. My hobby is to analyze situations and determine whether to speak or not."

"To speak or not to speak," England began dramatically, "that is the question." He winked at Germany. "That can work romantically as well, mind you."

"What...?"

"I am certain Italy returns your feelings, Doitsu-san, though he will not know how you feel about him unless you say it yourself. But even when you muster up enough bravery to confess, you must get the setting right: the time and location must be proper for the mood you wish to convey," Japan explained knowledgeably.

"And compliment him," England cut in, "It'll really make him happy. Especially if he feels the same for you. Best way to go is through poetry," he added, grinning cheekily. "Tell him how much you love his eyes, his personality, et cetera...with enough feeling that it's sweet but not so much that it's so corny he'll want to jump off a cliff. You wouldn't believe the trouble I had with that when I was first courting Kiku here."

"I still cringe at the memory, Asa," Japan murmured, blushing.

"Lesson learned is that I never take love advice from France ever again."

Germany sighed. "Then it's a good thing I went to you two first, especially since that guy is the one who taught Italy the meaning of 'intercourse.'"

"Did he really, the frog? Hmph. I wouldn't put it past him."

"I thank you both."

"Do tell us how it went."

"...Fine."

"Good luck, Doitsu-san."

Germany nodded and stood up. He was still as nervous as ever, but anticipation ran through him as well. Finally, he could confess, after years of not understanding the Italian. Finally.

He walked out of the door as solemnly as ever, but even Alfred F. Jones couldn't mistake the how the atmosphere around him lifted.

…

"Young love; how sweet," Arthur said rather fondly, putting an arm around Kiku's waist.

Kiku nodded in agreement. "I am sure all will go well."

"If it doesn't, I'll curse them both for not following my excellent, gentlemanly advice properly."

His dark-haired man giggled a bit. "Goshujin-sama.."

"Hm?"

"The fact that he had a bouquet of red roses..." that quirky little smile was back, "does it not bring back memories?"

It took less than a second for Arthur to comprehend. Once he did, he turned a deep shade a red, as red as the roses that bloomed all over time, and stuttered, "W-wot? I-it doesn't mean the same thing! The only reason I brought you those was because...because it was a cultural thing back then! It still is, except when you're using it like Germany! I-I mean, the rose is my national flower! D-don't get the wrong idea..."

Japan laughed some more. "How blunt you are..."

England was still as red as a strawberry, but he still managed a shaky smirk. "And you love me for that, don't you? _Maid-san?_"

He claimed Japan's lips without even waiting for an answer.

…

It was probably a good thing Germany's suite was far away from Japan's; at least he had time to think about what he was going to say, in case Italy was there. Poetry, eh?

He pulled out his trusty key and stuck it in the keyhole. He twisted the knob and pushed the door open, finding nothing but darkness and breathing a sigh of relief. Perhaps he could finally relax.

He made his way to his bedroom and practically flopped onto the bed. Who knew being in love could take so much out of a country...How England and Japan dealt with it, was one of those impossible questions like whether the chicken or the egg came first.

"Germany, you're back! Veee~"

_Ach Mein Gott._

He no soon had time to think as a bouncy Italian hugged him.

"Hello, Italy." He had long since gotten used to having Italy around. He even got used to the fact that he could never sleep alone again.

"I missed you! You were gone for so long, I made pasta!" Shocker. "I even made wurst!"

Germany's ears quirked up at the last word like one of his dogs. "You made wurst?"

"Si, si! I know you like it, and I had of a lot of time, so I made some!"

Germany smiled softly. "Thank you."  
How nostalgic, though it was the other way around before.

"Mfelngsfryu..."

"Ve?"

The blonde blushed and inhaled deeply to calm himself. " My feelings, I have always kept them in a band, but you are as bright as the sun in your land. My heart feels like it's going to burst, when I see your eyes, much like...wurst." He mentally kicked himself for the last line. Wurst, realy? He was a German through and through, but come on!

Italy said nothing.

"Italy...uh...I have to ask...what do my eyes...remind you of?" Anything to get his mind of his epic failure, anything.

He saw Italy's expression: it was happy as usual, but not in a goofy way. Just...normal.

"Your eyes...are like the sky. You know I've always hated wearing helmets, ve. I hate being shorter than you. Every time I would look at the sky in the daytime, I would try to reach out to it, but then I'd think of you, and give up, because the sky is so far away from where I stand. Just like you, Germany."

Said German lay there, stunned. Ironic that Italy had came up with something so much deeper than he did. He blushed, leaning in to give him the hug he begged for by kissing both of his cheeks.

"Try harder, Feliciano. We all grow through experience."

Feliciano's eyes opened in shock. "You're right...and Ludwig?"

The German smiled softly again, thinking it was another deep statement. "Yes, Feliciano?"

Italy's goofy smile had returned. "Your sausages taste like shit."

* * *

**I'm sorry if the last line ruined the mood, but I'm way too sleepy to fix it right now.  
-Booting up the rating because I'm perverted enough to imply just what England and Japan were doing. Who knows, I may write what they did in detail one day, but it'll be separate from this.  
*Unless I'm mistaken, it literally means Master. Please correct me if I'm wrong.  
-Anyway, I hope you enjoyed. Feedback can make the difference between depressed me and Italy!me.  
-Next pairing: Possibly Spamano. If anyone wants to request a pairing, feel free to do so. BUT, I can only manage updating this on a two month-basis. I apologize, but school is sucking me dry and I'm lucky I even got this out. Updating my other stories seems like a faraway dream now...just like the sky to Italy. =3=  
**


	5. Untitled

**This is dedicated to ncalkins, who requested this pairing…four months ago. –shot- I'm sorry for the wait! I just didn't get any ideas until a few weeks, and even after that there was trouble. So many rewrites.  
**

* * *

"I just don't get it, man."

The speaker sighed and flopped down on a posh couch unceremoniously, the furniture whining under him from the added pressure. Fuck, he probably had to start watching his weight again…

Green eyes glared blearily at him. "And you also don't seem to comprehend what time zones are. It's three in the bloody morning, Alfred!"

Alfred came out from his confused daze to gaze out the window and see how dark the sky really was. Well shit. London at night was surely a sight. "Huh? Shouldn't it be around six at night?"

It was his conversational partner's turn to sigh. "Che. Being this absent-minded is a first even for you. Did you not realize you went from Los Angeles to London already? Saying you were delivering flowers from a Mr. Kiku Honda to get me out of bed?" Had Alfred been paying attention, he would have teased his friend for the blushing at the last few words.

Unfortunately though, he didn't, and remained perplexed.

"ALFRED! Listen to me when I'm talking to you, dammit! You don't just wake someone else up from a well-needed rest just to ignore them! At least tell me what made you like this, because I'm sure as hell that it wasn't my way of raising you!"

That snapped Alfred out of his musing, blue eyes avoiding the green in embarrassment. "Who is this Alfred you speak of? He must be amazing, I know, for you to be hallucinating about him. Nope, nope, not me. My name's Bruce and I actually don't have to worry about what a Russian dude is trying to say. Yup, I'm the happiest man on earth, thanks for asking, Artie."

"Alfred, just because you come to my place wearing a mustache that doesn't even match your natural hair color doesn't mean I won't know who you are. Idiot. Get a better disguise next time; otherwise people besides me will catch onto the _secret identity_ you try so hard to hide."

"And I wondered why everyone looked at me weird…"

"It's because you look like a desperate pedophile. Now, tell me. What's going on between you and Russia?"

The previously confused expression turned into a shocked one, and Alfred, instead of blushing, paled. "How did you know—"

"Oh, come off it, how many 'Russian dudes' would you interact with enough that they'd affect you like this? And I keep smelling sunflowers on you. Quite creepy, if you ask me."

"That-!" Alfred jerked, but he paused. Continuing in a calmer manner, he murmured, "He keeps treatin' me like a kid. It's almost like I'm livin' with you again, Artie."

"_Arthur. _And elaborate. Do you mean he's treating you as he was a kid or as you were?"

"Eh…like I'm some little baby who knows nothing about the world is just soooo entertaining!" the American said with a pout. "It's like every time I talk to him, he always has a weird smile on his face that just _screams_ 'I'm only with you to look down on you,' and then he's always patting my head and gigglin' like some schoolgirl! I…" he paused once more, looking forlorn and sulky, "If he's keepin' me company just to pity me and look on me, then he can just go fuck himself."

Arthur raised an eyebrow, previous signs of sleep-deprivation seeming to disappear. "…I see. So basically you're throwing a tantrum for no good reason at all."

"It _is _a good reason! I don't wanna be looked down on! I want him to see me as an equal, not some zoo exhibit!"

"Why?"

The question was like a knife that stabbed through Alfred's thoughts and opened his eyes to something he'd been willfully blind to.

"Because…then it'd mean I was something to be secretly hated and made fun of."

Arthur nodded, like he'd been expecting the answer for the whole time, though he didn't seem to like it much, since his brows were furrowing and his frown was deepening.

"And is this something you only feel with Russia." It was more of a statement than a question.

Alfred stiffened and sat up, his mind whirring surprisingly faster than one would expect of him. Words came slowly from his mouth. "…yeah. I mean, with him, it bothers me the most."

"What exactly do you think of him?"

Now his brain got muddled up again. What _did _he think of Russia? He guessed he didn't hate the guy, _couldn't_ hate the guy because of that goddamned lonely expression Russia would get when he looked at everyone and thought no one was looking back. But Alfred hated the smile that would hardly ever leave his face, because it just seemed like he was conveying a much different emotion than happiness. Alfred was the kind of man who disliked complicated matters. Seeing that smile made him want to scream, "Don't smile if you're not actually happy! If you gotta problem with somethin', don't fucking _smile_ unless it's with your boss or whatever! Even if you _are _my backup sidekick, you can still _tell me_ stuff. Jesus Christ!"

But somehow the words would never escape his throat, and he would be left with frustration and need. Need to see the nation with everlasting snow truly happy about something that wasn't death or some creepy shit. Something small, like sunflowers or…he didn't even know.

Though maybe…maybe…he could be something that would make Russia smile sincerely. It made sense now that he thought about it. Kinda.

"Figured it out yet? You've been silent for a while. It must be a record." Arthur's bored-sounding voice jolted him out of his zone again, and Alfred was almost offended. How could Arthur get something from this much info that he couldn't get from the actual experience? What was he missing? What was he even trying to get in the first place?

"Ummmm….no. Ugh, I don't even know anymore!"

The Briton scoffed. "As expected. Well, judging from what you've told me, it looks like you're in love. Whoop-dee-fucking-do."

And that was when Alfred's brain finally broke. "_What_?"

As if God shared his sentiment, there was a thud against the wall, though he couldn't see what was causing it.

"Well it had to happen someday, I suppose. I just don't get why it had to be _Russia _of all people."

"Hold up! I…" His brain just didn't seem to work anymore. "…_what_?"

"Are you really that dense? On the bright side, though, I'm fairly certain he likes you back."

"…" His poor brain. This was way too much to take in. "H-heroes can't fall in love! Th-that usually means the villain can use the love interest as bait because that's the hero's only weakness!"

Arthur sighed. "Too late, you already did. But to make you realize it…let me ask you this. What do you think of Russia's appearance?"

"…huh?"

"Just go with it," the Englishman urged, waving a hand dismissively. There was a slight stir in the next room.

"His…appearance?"

"To break it down even more, what do you think of his eyes?"

"Uhhh…well they're pretty like…hmmmm…" The light shade of purple that you never saw when you looked in another person's eyes unless they were wearing contacts. If contacts of that beautiful color were even _made_. It really was hard to think of something in the world to compare.

Oh, but in _this_ world…

"They remind me of…"  
"Of?" Arthur prompted, his leaning closer enhancing the tension.

"Aliens." His answer to…well, pretty much everything. But it still explained a lot. The mystic hue would remind him that there were worlds left unexplored, whether they were in space or in Ivan Braginski. Alfred really didn't know enough about either.

Arthur gawked. "…_what_?"

Déjà vu.

There was a louder thud this time, and Alfred finally acknowledged it. "The hell's that?" he asked casually, jerking his thumb toward the source of the noise. "Kiku here again?"

Arthur opened his mouth to splutter a denial, but was saved from doing so by the appearance of—

"RUSSIA?" While Alfred F. Jones was perfectly fine with dancing like a monkey in public over a glass square with others watching, he was highly embarrassed at the thought of Russia hearing all those weird things he'd said. Well, the alien bit wasn't _all _that weird…

Arthur looked between both of them helplessly, but then regained his composure first, coughed, and briskly stated, "Well, yes. He also sought advice from me about you, and I was so fed up with how long it was taking for the epiphany to come that I went to sleep. Apparently he didn't leave when you came, and it's not like he could have waltzed right out with you here, so he stayed. The questions I asked you were what he wanted to ask himself. He wanted to know what made you storm off like a brat."

Alfred was almost speechless with shock. Almost. "Weren't you scared of him?"

Arthur assumed a sheepish expression. "Of course. But he seemed to care about you enough, and," he added in a very low voice, "I'd do anything to get the creepy bastard off my hands."

Silence. It was broken by Arthur once more. "Well, now I'm going to ask you two to leave and settle things by yourself." He motioned towards the door.

Reluctantly, Alfred and Ivan followed the gesture and made their exit. Arthur swung the door shut, but not before Alfred had thrust his hand out into the open.  
"Ow."

"That's not what you said after dragging my car for an hour," Arthur grumbled. But Alfred swore, when he removed his slightly throbbing hand, that Arthur had muttered something like, _"Take responsibility, dumbass, and be a man"_ under his breath before he closed the door.

There was more awkward silence, and Alfred found enough courage to bring his eyes to Russia's face.

What the fuck. Was he _blushing_? Was that pale skin actually pink? And what was with that smile? It wasn't like the usual, "Oh I'm so misunderstood that I'll just hide my pain with a smile." It was more like he was actually happy.

"Now you can become one with me? Is that right now?" Russia—no, _Ivan_ asked just a bit too gleefully. Alfred failed to notice any undertone.

"Well, why the fuck not." was the response Alfred gave, shrugging.

He was almost crushed in a bear hug, something close to fear flooding. Didn't they just confirm everything? Why would he trying to kill him now?

But then there was a nose burying itself in his hair, and a giggle from the man. "You really do smell like sunflowers, mой дорогой."

Yup, Alfred decided. He _really_ didn't get this guy.

* * *

**Is it just me, or are these steadily getting longer…-back to slumping on Tumblr-**

**Happy birthday, Iceland! (And to RC Cola, in case you end up reading this!)**

**First time writing RusAme, so I apologize for the suckiness. But I never would have gotten this done without a certain author I admire. You know, the one who wrote the fic, "The Butterfly and the Gentleman."**

**Next up: Spamano, unless another request comes up. It's not that I don't do them, I'm just really slow! –bricked-**

**Though the next time you see me on this website, it'll be for AsaKiku. "Magnetism!"**


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